The Escape of the Notorious Sir William Heans by William Gosse Hay

With regard to the little play alone--who will ever forget the evening who was present; or the strange, simple old house; or the garden with its broken stonework? Sir John remarked that the "room" had certainly "been built for speakers." The advancing echo of the violins with their "Campbells are coming" was charming. While, when the violet curtains were withdrawn from before the western end, and the "Hall of Halbert's Tower" was disclosed, Lady Franklin was heard to inquire whether the "carved ram's-horn mantel-piece" was "actual stone." The ladies and gentlemen voted the play most striking and noble, though many condemned the fair Helen for loving the wrong gentleman--handsome as he was in his majestic villainy, full of haughty triumph as were his sinister words: "Our regiment mean to teach your clan the finest of all lessons: the art of spending life." As for Halbert Macdonald, the generous and unfortunate young chief, he seemed to exult in his noble sacrifice, and who will forget his plaided figure as he stood at the little window beside the chimney, and apostrophised, in fact, the mountain luminary: O, blessed star Of morning, do you wait upon that cone Whose whiteness mocks our marble, to renew The calm cerulean distance can impart To thoughts of earth's brief struggles? Linger yet! It sinks; 'tis gone; its peace is in my soul.

It was excellently portrayed, the acting of old and young vying with the realities of the room; the pretty sorrows of the participants with the sound of the drums and fifes outside in the garden. The actual tragedy in the caves had been carefully hidden from the guests. Those who knew of an affray had been cautioned, while, that an actual death had occurred, close by, a few hours previous, was known only to one or two of the men. A small conclave of gentlemen, awaiting Sir John Franklin in the little room off the entrance, had gravely discussed the tragedy, and the master of the house had been summoned. Oughtryn's story, and that of Dr. Wardshaw, who was watching his daughter, had created distinct sympathy for Sir William Heans, who still lay in his rooms. The case was remarkable. The soldier had been stabbed to death, but there had been a long pursuit, while a peculiar instrument and marks of attempted strangulation had been found on the prisoner's person. The old master of the house played his part pretty well, facing Sir John Franklin, and revealing nothing, as he was bid. Few heard tell of the terrible affray, and those who remembered to enquire after the shy child, Abelia, were told anything than that she had been taken away between life and death.